


Feeling Better

by chaos_monkey



Series: Just Relax [2]
Category: Midsomer Murders - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Mood, Ben is Gay, Dom!Barnaby, Domestic Fluff, Endless season 15, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, John is bi, Jones is a DI in Causton now, M/M, Male Slash, Non-Canonical Relationship, Poly John/Sarah, Polyamory, Rope Bondage, because I want him to be, sub!Jones, they’re in love they’re so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 20:04:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19216552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaos_monkey/pseuds/chaos_monkey
Summary: Ben is having a bad week. John knows what will help.





	Feeling Better

“Well, that was a shit day,” Ben said, dropping down onto his couch and scowling at the blank TV screen with his arms crossed.

He heard John moving around a bit before coming to stand behind him, arms slipping around his chest. “Those do happen, Ben,” he said, the quiet amusement in his voice making Ben feel better and more annoyed at the same time.

“The new commissioner’s a right twat,” Ben muttered, and the petulant tone in his own voice just made him annoyed with himself too.

John laughed at that. “Mm… No comment,” he said, and a small grin tugged at Ben’s lips despite himself.

“Go shower. Get changed,” John said, leaning down to kiss Ben’s forehead. “I’ll reheat the takeaway and we’ll put on a movie or something. Sound good?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Ben said, but didn’t get up, just leaned forward and scrubbed his hands over his face with a sigh. It was their night together, neither of them was working late for once, and here he was moping about and probably ruining the whole thing. “I’m sorry, John, I don’t mean to be… it’s just been one of those weeks.”

“I know,” John said. “You skipped lunch again today, didn’t you?”

“ … No?” Ben tried, and he could almost _hear_ John rolling his eyes as he walked towards the kitchen, calling back over his shoulder.

“More coffee isn’t lunch, Jones. Go on. Food’ll be ready soon and you’ll feel better for eating.”

 

John was right, as usual. The hot shower did wonders, as did trading his suit out for comfy jeans and a t-shirt, and the sharp smell of Indian food wafting down the hallway had finally made him realize he was fucking ravenous. After supper, John took his turn showering and changing while Ben cleared up, and they finally settled down on the couch to find something to watch.

They were halfway through a wonderfully, perfectly _bad_ disaster movie, and Ben was starting to feel almost human again, when his phone dinged in his pocket. He tensed up as he fished it out, though at least he probably wasn’t being called out again. Nelson would be ringing him if it was a new case.

“Oh, for -” Ben ground his teeth.

“What is it?”

“I have to redo my whole bloody report, apparently. Some stupid formatting reason or other - and why the hell is he still sending work emails this late!” Bloody commissioner, and his bloody reports, Ben was going to strangle the man with his own hideous tie tomorrow -

“All right, that’s it,” John said, turning off the TV and standing up. “Bedroom, now. You are going to relax tonight if I have to tie you up and _make_ you relax.”

Ben looked up from glaring at the email on his phone, blinking in brief confusion as his mind tried to change direction abruptly. What..? Oh. _Oh._

John nodded in the direction of the bedroom without a word, eyebrows raised, and Ben jumped to his feet to follow.

 

Some time later, Ben was lying in bed, lips tingling, slightly breathless, with John pressed up against his front.

“You’re still tense, Jones,” John murmured, that mischievous little grin on his lips, his hand trailing lightly up and down Ben’s back and sending shivers across his skin.

John had taken Ben’s shirt off almost immediately, but then swatted his hand away every time he made to take John’s off too. Ben had been raring to go straight away, but John apparently wanted to take things slow tonight and hadn’t let him do, well… anything. Other than kiss. A _lot._

Ben had to admit, slow was turning out to be a good idea after all.

John’s smirk deepened, and he rolled away from Ben to get out of bed, just looking at him consideringly for a moment. “Up on your knees,” he finally said.

Ben obeyed, kneeling upright and biting his lip as he stared back at John.

“Perfect,” John said, and Ben watched as he crossed the room and pulled some things out from the back corner of the closet.

Tossing them in a pile on the bed, John knelt in front of him and brushed a light kiss over his lips before pulling back to look him in the eyes. “Safeword?”

“Horse,” Ben said, a small grin creeping over his face.

“You, Jones, are a brat,” John said, huffing a laugh. He really didn’t like horses, so Ben usually used it.

Holding Ben’s eyes, John picked up the large coil of soft, black rope, and Ben’s breath hitched and then quickened as John ran it slowly up his front and along the line of his jaw before leaning in for another kiss.

His eyes closed, John’s mouth on his, Ben heard the coil drop to the mattress behind him with a soft thump. And then John’s mouth pulled away and Ben was opening his eyes to silky darkness as John wound the blindfold securely around his head.

Ben twitched, jumping slightly when John’s hand moved back to his shoulder, and John’s voice was at his ear, gentle, hands running around to his back.

“Just relax, Ben… I’ve got you.”

Ben let out a long, shivering sigh, and relaxed, letting John take over; letting himself get entirely lost in the moment; in each moment as it came and went…

 

… John is moving around him on the bed, hands gentle, always on him; sliding over his skin and leaving tingles in their wake. A rustling, and then the almost-bite of the rope as John carefully, slowly, winds it around his stomach between his hips and his ribs. Layer after layer after layer and it’s tight enough he can feel it; but not so tight he can’t breathe normally. It pulls on him with every breath, and John pauses while he breathes into it, just feeling, getting used to the tug and the light scratch when he does.

Arms moved behind his back and wrists held together; stomach linked to his elbows now, and he can bend them but he can’t lift his arms. Then John moves up, rope winding around his chest and shoulders, tight but not too tight, and he breathes into it again. He can almost see the pattern John makes as he builds it; crossing and knotting behind his shoulder blades as it tightens over his arms; then running down to make thick layers again, binding his hands together, around and around, the weight of it pulling down at his wrists.

John is murmuring to him the whole time, soothing, low; and the more he’s restrained, the more he relaxes, until John’s words are washing through him like the soft crashing of waves on stone, the sound of his voice more important than the words themselves.

Breathing in and out, slow, deliberate, feeling the ropes tighten with every deep breath, scraping lightly and digging into his skin in little sparky tingles.

He couldn’t move his arms now if he wanted to, and he doesn’t want to; the relief, the freedom of being entirely in someone else’s hands, in _John’s_ hands, enough to make him gasp and shiver as tension suddenly leaves him in a rush.

 _God, Ben… you’re so beautiful._ He believes it because John says it, and John’s hands are tracing over his skin, tracing over the rope that’s holding him tight, and he can imagine the pattern it makes; perfect straight lines in front and crisscrossing behind.

Hands are positioning him gently, moving, turning, and he shuffles on his knees, letting John move him where he wants, how he wants. There’s no fear in it, no hesitation. John won’t let him fall.

The mattress shifts, lifts. A hand in his hair now, another at his jaw to tilt his face up, and then John’s lips on his, soft with a hint of curry spice from supper still. He can smell _John_ behind it, light sweat and a hint of aftershave, and then pressure on his shoulder, coaxing him downwards. He was kneeling upright for John to work but now he sinks down, his face in John’s shirt, moving lower -

Still a hand in his hair but not on his shoulder anymore; instead there’s the clinking jingle of John’s belt, sending little jolts through him, and he mouths toward the sound, eager, toward the smell of John, stronger here -

His face pressed to John’s crotch, trousers still closed and the fabric rough on his cheek, a whisper - _can you feel how hard you make me?_ \- and yes he can feel it, he wants it; nuzzling, little mewling sounds of need and he realizes they come from him and he doesn’t care.

A throaty noise from above, the harsh grating of a zipper and then soft velvet skin over pulsing hard heat against his lips, his cheek; he opens his mouth to it.

John is guiding himself; he knows because he feels fingers against his lips as John fills his mouth, in and out and in again, hand gentle at the back of his head.

Faster now, fingers tightening in his hair, slick sounds and spit drooling, his moans muffled around John and he can hear the need in John’s breathing, sharp breaths in and low panting moans out.

 _I’m almost there, Ben… so good, you’re so good,_ and he doesn’t want anything more than to be good for him, for John.

 _Yes, oh yes,_ and John’s jerking against his face, filling his mouth with liquid heat, and he swallows it down until there’s none left.

John pulls out but not away, and his mouth is empty again but the gentle hands stay on him. Then lips on his, hot wet tongue pushing in, and he moans. He’s so hard it hurts, jeans tight and unyielding, and John is moving around him, weight settling the bed down under him and body warm behind him.

 _Up_ is the whisper in his ear; hands urging him higher on his knees again, then slipping forward, fingers quick and clever, opening his jeans and pushing them down, pulling him out. There’s a pause and one hand leaves him and he whines with need, he can’t help himself -

\- but, _shhh,_ John hushes him gently, and there’s a sharp click sound and then John’s hand is back, closing slick around his cock. He shudders, knees opening wide as his jeans will let them, half sitting on John’s lap and leaning back, arms caught between himself and the solid warmth behind him.

He can’t see but he can _feel,_ feel everything; warm lips on his neck, hand tight on his cock and arm tight around him over the rope that tugs and bites his skin; and he’s building higher, muscles tightening against his bindings.

 _Yes… that’s it, let go_ \- and he does, shaking in John’s arms with a wordless cry, pulsing out until he’s limp with relief, sagging back, and he would have fallen but John is there, John is always there, holding him together as he falls apart.

He drifts; hands on skin; words again…

 

… Ben slowly came back to himself, still feeling a little floaty. He was curled up on his side with his head on John’s chest; John’s arms around him and his muscles so loose he felt boneless. John had already unbound him and his skin was tingling pleasantly in bands where the rope had left faint burns behind.

He didn’t think he’d moved at all, but he must have shifted or something, because he felt John twisting a little to stroke a hand through his hair.

“Feeling better?”

Ben hummed contentedly in response, nodding against John and snuggling in tighter.

He felt great.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically what I was picturing for the bondage work, no idea if I conveyed it well or not but *shrug*  
> https://i.pinimg.com/originals/20/f9/8a/20f98ae3ce4ff8b97e67cbc4ae4a4b3f.jpg
> 
> p.s. Yes Nelson is Jones' DS. And Stephens is Barnaby's DS now if you were wondering, because she never left when Tom did, okay >_>


End file.
